


Out of Acherus

by ClarySage



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Chunky Arthas, Death Knights are still cool, Drabbles, Fluff and Crack, Khadgar sass, Koltira is a huge bitch about everything, M/M, No particular timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 8,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClarySage/pseuds/ClarySage
Summary: "Acherus is made from Saronite, yes?""Yes," Thassarian says, slow and suspicious."And held together by magic.""I would...assume so.""And covered in spikes."Thassarian frowns, mildly concerned about where this is going."It is, yes.""And the Fel Hammer is made from something flimsy, Fel Iron or some such."Ah. Thasarian folds his arms and frowns at Koltira, trying not to be amused by his antics."Darion will not let you use Acherus to ram the Fel Hammer."The various misadventures of the two least responsible Death Knights on Azeroth.





	1. Beetles

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of bits and pieces that come to me while I'm screwing around on Wow. The timeline is all over the place.

Koltira loves killing Vrykul. Killing the other types of scourge is fun too, of course, but he's a big fan of taking unlife's little pleasures where he can find them and there's nothing so satisfying as mowing through a horde of ten foot tall vikings. 

Watching them collapse back into piles of rot and seaweed is always pleasant as well. 

Nerubians probably make the best noises when they die, though. All sorts of clicks and crunches. Some of the tiny ones have really shiny shells, he started collecting them years ago to brighten up his chamber on Acherus. Thassarian still occasionally brings him a bright little wing cover the size of a coin, held carefully in one big fist that isn't used to handling anything so delicate. It reminds Koltira of seeing a teenage orc bringing flowers for his girlfriend once near the Crossroads - he'd held them like he was scared he'd crush them. 

Of course, the female orc had eaten them but he's never looked into orc mating rituals closely enough to figure out if that was a good sign for the boy or not.

Thassarian has a new beetle wing for him today, holding it out all sheepish. It's probably for the best that he never showed this side of himself to Hellscream or Arthas, even Darion thinks it's weird. Koltira thinks it's actually very sweet and takes the little electric green wing case with his more delicate elven fingers. 

"I found it in a crypt in Dragonblight." Thassarian supplies, relieved to not be holding it any more and proud of himself for finding something Koltira likes. 

"You're too sweet." Koltira tells him, not even sarcastic even though his voice just always sounds that way. 

He places it carefully with the others, about thirty shiny little treasures in a glass jar on the shelf. When he turns back he catches the happy look on Thassarian's face before he quickly schools it back into Death Knight tragic stoicism. Koltira still leans in and pecks him on the cheek like an old married couple anyway, because somehow even though he's been dead for a very long time, Thassarian can still manage to blush like an awkward schoolboy.


	2. Dust

Koltira dislikes Orgrimmar. 

In his opinion the spikes are perfectly necessary but the whole place is far too warm and orange. The dust is the wrong sort of dust as well - he's tried to explain it to Thassarian every time they visit but gotten only blank stares, although that could just be Thassarian's regular face, who knew. 

Acherus' dust is fine and cold and spooky - he likes that. It's evil dust. It's old, ancient crypt dust that never actually moves, just sits in a fine sheen over every surface. 

The dust in Orgrimmar is orange, for a start. It's orc dust, it actually smells like orc. And it moves, swirls around and piles in little drifts and is far too alive for dust. It gets in the cracks in his armor and he ends up cleaning orange clay out of his fingernails and it really is lucky he bought that little nail brush to get blood out with or the entire place would be unbearable.

Not that Orgrimmar isn't already unbearable. 

It's hot - he hates that. It's loud, he hates that too. The first time he'd visited to grovel to the warchief the peasants had thrown tomatoes at him, which was both disgusting and rude. Thassarian had borne it stoically and refused to let them beat him down. Koltira had bitched the entire time and remembered the faces of everyone who'd thrown anything at them, then gone back later that night and infested every one of them with permanent oozing boils. He still spots one of them now and then, swathed in gauze like a leper. 

It never fails to cheer him up.


	3. Epic Mount

He's been collecting recipes from Shattrath lately. 

When you reach a certain age there's just nothing else to do but give in and start collecting everything, and he's been around a long time. 

Thassarian would like to project the image that as Death Knights freed from the tyranny of Arthas' will they spend every minute of their endless unlives killing the scourge, but in all honesty that can get very boring.

The worst thing is that he only needs one more recipe and he has the whole set. He doesn't actually get any kind of prize for getting them all, only his own sense of accomplishment, but it fills him with incredible rage that he just can't get that last one. He's going to keep trying every day until Shattrath is a dusty ruin and Outland has finally disintegrated because he refuses to let what's essentially a lucky dip defeat him.

Thassarian prefers to collect mounts, running off to all corners of Azeroth and beyond for the latest and most interesting thing to ride around on. Koltira gets dragged along a lot too, at least he sometimes picks up a little pet along the way that he can love and hug and name Steve until he inevitably gets bored and chases it off. 

The mounts are sometimes a problem. 

Some of them are no trouble, horses and horse shaped things and anything smaller than a horse is just fine.

Dragons are less fine. 

Dragons are very needy, it turns out. The worst thing was the giant flaming bird from the Firelands Thassarian rode into Acherus on once and promptly set everything on fire. It was the size of a dragon but much more ill tempered and had spent most of its time alternately incinerating everything and trying to eat poor old Lurid. Darion had thankfully forced Thassarian to get rid of it after it had managed to immolate one of the abominations, because there is nothing that smells quite like burning abomination. 

Thass had been sad to see it go, and had sorrowfully released it in the direction of Stormwind because surely they were fairly used to dealing with fire damage by now.


	4. Tea

Visiting Silvermoon is always awkward. 

Honestly, Thassarian treats him like he's going to break down and have hysterics right there in the street when in actual fact it's been so long since all that 'death' business that he honestly stopped caring years ago. 

He quite likes the government of Silvermoon, which is odd because authority generally rubs him the wrong way. Lor'themar Theron is a good leader and hates paperwork and sitting behind a desk, which in Koltira's opinion is the hallmark of someone to trust. 

Halduron flirts with everything that moves but goes home to Lor'Themar at the end of the night, which is never outright stated by either of them but still blatantly known by everyone in the city. Rommath is a long-suffering soul who occasionally keeps Aethas Sunreaver from blowing up Dalaran and himself and probably half the continent, and Liadrin is probably the only sane elf in the entire palace. 

It's Koltira's kind of place.

Thassarian stands there awkwardly while Koltira has tea with Halduron and Liadrin, trying not to do anything too outwardly undead. Thass can't do smalltalk so he stands there and listens silently to the talk of the palace - which he calls gossip - and the latest news on the leylines and crystals, which Thass just refers to as 'elf matters'. 

"Will you sit down already and drink some tea?" Koltira bitches at him when he can't stand the silent bodyguard act any longer. 

Thassarian shuffles a little and puts down his sword next to where Byfrost is leaning in a corner with the rest of the weapons, sitting on one of the elegant chairs in full armour as carefully as he can manage. Koltira has taken his off, because only Lor'themar wears his armour around the palace and only when he's absolutely forced to by Rommath.

"I don't need it." Thass murmurs when Koltira gestures savagely at the teacup in front of him. 

"Nobody needs it. It's tea, Thassarian, nobody has ever needed tea. Drink it." Koltira bitches, glaring. Liadrin and Halduron are watching them, amused. 

"But we don't..." He starts, gesturing to the teacup, which Koltira picks up and holds out to him with bared teeth and an evil glow in his eyes.

"Drink. The. Tea. Thassarian." Koltira hisses, "Drink it. Drink it or you're riding the damn disc home." 

Thass hates the flying disc, although it's pretty hilarious watching an undead warrior wobbling about on it with his teeth grit and a look of determination on his face. 

"...Fine." Thass gives in when faced with his partner's undead blood elf wrath, taking the teacup in his gauntleted hand with the clank of iron. 

It goes cold immediately but Thassarian drinks it anyway because he knows Koltira is watching out of the corner of his eyes even if he doesn't actually have pupils.


	5. Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Legion.

Dragons aren't too bad, on his scale of creatures he hates. 

Every single creature is on there - that's just the way he is - but dragons are less horrible than most other things.

Running around Val'sharah killing nightmare creatures while Tyrande Whisperwind is generally rude and impatient to them is fun for a while, even when Xavius steps in and spirits Malfurion 'horrible chimera of weird creature parts' Stormrage off to wherever. 

He stomps about finding copies of Malfurion all over the place, listening to him whimper for his wife and generally hating the pair of them. What an awful couple, perhaps that's how Darion feels around him and Thass.

Back to the dragons, anyway. 

Standing in the temple of Elune and feeling a bit out of place as usual because they're both dead and covered in spiky armor, Koltira will swear until the day he dies again that he and Thass did not lean on each other to watch Ysera become a new constellation. 

They definitely didn't have tears in their eyes. 

Nor did they have a weepy, pathetic cuddle behind the temple afterwards, where no night elves could see them.

Incidentally, it's quite hard to hug someone when both of you are wearing full plate armor.


	6. Hunting

Thassarian really doesn't like Hemet Nesingwary. 

Koltira also dislikes the dwarf on his partner's behalf. 

He has to admit, being told to murder twenty baby deer or whatever ridiculous, pointless task the hunter has for them turns his stomach. There are plenty of things to kill that deserve it, after all.

"Can we not go there?" Thassarian asks him sheepishly, holding the little scroll, a note to ask them to drop by the Nesingwary camp and see if they can help out.

For a human who has been dead a very long time, wears armor covered in skulls and spikes, freezes the very blood of his enemies and speaks with a voice echoing with death, Thassarian can pull off pleading puppy eyes quite well. 

"Fine. I didn't want to go anyway." Koltira snatches the missive and tosses it into the fire. 

Thassarian gives him a wide grin and in return is told to shut up.


	7. Gilneans

Today they're off to somewhere called Bradensbrook, which sounds fairly inoffensive until they get there and the mayor opens his mouth. And oh god, it all goes very Gilnean very quickly. 

The first three times someone in the town says 'get gabbin' or get going', Koltira reflexively punches them in the face. He genuinely can't help it, it's like kryptonite to him. Once Thassarian figures out what the trigger is for his spontaneous face-punching he starts bear-hugging Koltira every time someone says it until the violent cursing stops. 

So the villagers are already somewhat wary of them from the start.

They decide (Thassarian decides) that Jarod Nightsong's attitude of 'they don't want our help but we should help them anyway because they do not yet hate us enough' is the correct attitude. The villagers hate them a little more. But hey, at least they get to kill scourge, and if anyone is really, really good at killing scourge it would be the two of them.

They meet a lot of very Gilnean people who don't trust them at all, quite rightly. They're resigned to spending the night at the inn as usual, getting glared at all night by the living, as though they're somehow superior. Granny Marl, though, is having none of that.

"You come and stay at mine, the pair of you. I'll get you a room set up, just as soon as I finish shooting these bloody birds." 

She's an old lady with a shotgun, blasting birds out of the sky. She keeps shouting 'headshot!' even though she's using a shotgun and every bird she shoots in the vague direction of simply explodes into red mist.

Koltira likes her. Even when she spends the evening giving them advice on their love-lives, which Thassarian listens intently to and then is never allowed to bring up again, ever.

The next day Thass saves a small child from being in an unlocked cellar and puts a few fires out because he's good with frost, and Koltira just generally tags along and kills things, cringing every time he hears a Gilnean accent. Once they clear the cellar of the pesky child hiding there, they have a short break and defile the place as only a pair of virtually-married Death Knights can. The only reason they aren't actually marred is because Thassarian thinks the surname 'Deathweaver' is far too 'elfy'. 

He hopes that nobody notices the mess they made of the basement or the Gilneans are going to hate them even more than they already do. What are they even doing on the broken isles setting up random villages anyway? Mortals. Besides, they left the place slightly less on fire than when they arrived, so if anything the settlers should be grateful.

They get back in time to hear the mayor changing his tune, telling Jarod to stay as long as he wants. Koltira is disappointed, he liked them a lot better before. 

He doesn't trust people who trust him, because why would anyone?


	8. Sacrifice

They're picking up some quests from one of the Illidari in Dalaran. 

They've actually started walking away towards the flight master when he says:

"I've sacrificed everything, what have you given?"

Thassarian's 'Koltira Alarm' immediately triggers and he reaches out for the elf only to find that his partner has already spun around and is marching back over to the Illidari.

"What." Koltira snarls, looking as livid as only an undead social justice warrior can.

"Uh. It's just a standard phrase in our culture, it's meant to make people think about whether they could give more to-"

"Do you not see this shit?" Koltira hisses, gesturing to his glowing, soul-sucking sword, his icy blue eyes and his pale-as-actual-death face.

The Illidari looks slightly nervous and glances at Thassarian, as though he can do anything about this. He just shrugs with a clatter of plate shoulders.

"Perhaps it would be best not to use that phrase around Death Knights in future, many are not as lenient and forgiving as Koltira."

Koltira glowers angrily at him for saying that, growling but thankfully distracted from the slightly pale Illidari.

"Who said I was lenient and forgiving? I'll kill them!"


	9. In need of a Transmog

Koltira wouldn't say he's vain as such. Rather, all Blood Elves have an aversion to being seen looking anything less than fabulous.

He does not look particularly fabulous today, which is upsetting.

The thing is, he doesn't even notice until he puts on his gear in the morning, ready for yet another day of helping stupid people with their stupid problems. 

Thass glances over from where he's stomping out the fire since they've spent the night outside. They're in some sandy hellhole, Koltira can't even remember which one. It could be Desolace, it could be Tanaris. It's not red enough for Hellfire Peninsula and he doesn't remember taking the portal, but he tends to do quite a lot of things he doesn't remember the next day. Thassarian is the one with the maps, he's only there to provide immoral support and be an unstoppable killing machine.

So Thass looks over, pauses, very clearly runs his eyes over Koltira from head to toe, then silently goes back to what he was doing. 

Sometimes those long looks are a good thing and in the past have led to many of their finest horizontal adventures. This was not one of those looks.

"What?" Koltira demands, frowning and looking down at himself. Fine, so he's been picking up pieces of new armor here and there lately, and those new boots with the high tops, oh, and the cloak he was given for murdering some pirates or something...

Okay, he looks awful. 

His boots are lavender purple, for a start. His cloak is green. The chestplate he'd 'acquired' is brown and he's still wearing his blue-black saronite legplates and glowing shoulders because he hasn't found anything better yet. Usually he tends to forego his helmet (because hair like his does not do well confined) but he'd found a nice one that he now realizes makes him look ridiculous, with one large horn on the front like a mismatched undead unicorn.

"I still think you look good." Thassarian pipes up once he notices Koltira staring down at himself in horror. 

He's sweet. It's still a fashion disaster.

"Thassarian, I have an escort quest for you. Take me to the nearest plate merchant before my soul tears itself out of my body in shame. Your reward will be ambiguous but definitely sexual." He looks back up to find Thass grinning widely, sweeping down in a bow.

"I shall see to it at once, let us be off."


	10. Garrisons

They're hanging about the garrison again. 

Koltira isn't completely sure why they even need this place. New buildings appear now and then and people seem to be doing things – he leaves all that up to Thassarian because he likes what Koltira considers to be one step up from paperwork. 

To him, the garrison is a convenient place to keep all the people he's managed to kidnap/recruit in his travels, the ones Darion won't let him have on Acherus. It also has a portal, which is at least slightly useful. There's a mine full of ore that he doesn't know what to do with, a herb garden full of herbs he doesn't want or care about, people who know his name that he doesn't recognize and a bunch of important missions and resources in the main hall that only Thass cares about.

Also it's always snowing and there are just far too many orcs on Draenor. Everything is about honor and spikes and raw meat. He's almost starting to miss the pandas, if it weren't for the fact that he hates them.

“You look bored.” Thass tells him during a rare moment of not ordering troops around. He looks a little tired himself.

“I'm sick of the sight of this place, let me set it on fire.” Koltira replies, ever horribly honest. He knows Thass looks tempted, just for a moment.

“Perhaps we could...take a holiday? I do not think that burning the garrison will help anything, though.” Thassarian says earnestly, looking around at it with the temptation clearly written on his face.

“You say that about all my plans that involve burning things. One of these days you have to let me actually try it, because I'm certain some of the situations we find ourselves in could only be improved by fire.” Koltira folds his arms and cocks his hip, stubborn. “But fine, let's just get out of here. I hate orcs and wooden spikes and I'm bored with this entire planet, take me on holiday.” 

Thassarian looks up at the portal on top of the nearby wooden spiked tower, thoughtful.

“Where do you want to go? I think a lot of the living go to beaches on holiday but you hate sand and sunshine and the seaside and the living, so...” 

“Somewhere cold.” Koltira frowns. “With no living around. And maybe some scourge to kill.”

Thassarian manages a small smile, opening a death gate beside them.

“Acherus, then?” He asks, gesturing at the gate of purple swirling mist.

“Perfect.” Koltira announces, striding happily into the gate. 

Thassarian follows, glad that – high maintenance as he is – Koltira is pretty easy to please in the end.


	11. Led Astray by Paladins

On his knees, side by side with Thassarian after the battle of Light's Hope chapel, Koltira watches Arthas and Tirion face off, already missing the Frostblood Vanquisher they'd let him ride around on a couple of hours ago. 

He leans over to Thassarian subtly, glowing eyes still on whatever paladin nonsense is going on in front of them.

“Hey, what the hell is this?” He asks in a whisper, which somehow still echoes.

Thassarian glances at him, eyebrows doing something weird that seems to be halfway between raising in disbelief and frowning. It's raining blood, though, which is nice.

“You have not been listening?” He asks, all surprised, as though Koltira ever cares about anything other people are doing.

“Darion is getting scolded by the paladins, who I hate by the way, I wasn't paying attention to why. Did we lose that battle just now? I didn't even get off my horse. Did Fordring just chase off Arthas?” Koltira squints at the scene unfolding in front of him, trying his hardest to care.

“You do not feel...different? Arthas no longer holds sway over us.” Thassarian looks concerned, which is how he looks a lot of the time.

“Oh.” Koltira figures he's going to file this day under 'being led astray by paladins again' and shrugs. “I suppose I feel about the same, I pretty much always did what I wanted anyway. Darion looks traumatized, though, so the day isn't a total loss.”

“We will take back Acherus next, are you ready?” Thass asks, making a death gate. 

“I'm always ready for mindless violence. Plus all my stuff is there. Wait, are we called the Knights of the Ebon Blade now? Did Darion pick that name? He's such a tragic mopey wuss.” He folds his arms, getting up because the drama seems to be over and walking through the death gate.

Going through a death gate is actually a lot like wading through a thin barrier of purple cotton candy, only not as sticky. Koltira dislikes it, but Koltira dislikes most things.

When he sees the abominations running rampant around the place he draws Byfrost and glares at Thassarian, neatly sidestepping a hook that comes whistling past his head.

"If any bile, guts, juices, vomit or other fluids get on my hair I'm going to return the favour and murder you." He promises. Thassarian freezes a ghoul in place and glances sideways at him, watching the undead elf hack something in half.

"You honestly do not understand the significance of this day?" He has to ask. "We are free, our will is returned to us. We can do as we please now." 

Koltira blights one of the Val'kyr and is secretly impressed that it's possible to do that.

"Of course I understand it, I just don't care. I was pretty much doing what I wanted anyway. Arthas stays out of my head if he knows what's good for him."


	12. Spring Cleaning

Koltira wouldn't say he's a hoarder, as such. He just likes to keep things – you never know when a hundred bolts of mageweave cloth or some runed orbs might come in handy, after all. Besides, the look of apprehension on Thassarian's face as they open the big iron door to his personal bank is always pleasant.

Thassarian was a soldier. Still is, probably. Koltira isn't sure if being a Death Knight and being a soldier are the same thing, but they must be pretty close. Anyway, Thass is used to neatness. His bank is sparse, lots of room in case he needs to store whatever he's been carrying around in his bag in a hurry. He only keeps things he knows are going to be useful in there.

Koltira has seen Thassarian's bank vault and was appalled at the neat rows of little potion vials and flasks, the nicely stacked containers of food, the crafting materials only relevant to skills he actually has. It's all far too neat and logical and spartan.

He looks again into the cluttered, multicolored mess of his own bank and wonders if he should sell some of the junk he's collected. He's been collecting this stuff for years, though. There are precious memories in here. Loken's Tongue all disgusting and preserved in a jar, which he really should have turned in to the giant who'd asked him to retrieve it, but he'd kept it because it looks interesting. A blade called Trauma, which has always made him smirk. Rhea's last egg, because that whole debacle had definitely not made him weepy and pathetic for over a week afterwards. A bunch of dried Fjarnskaggl, because he loves that name. 

Thass looks over his shoulder and winces at all the random clutter, none of it organized in any coherent way.

“Perhaps you might throw away-” he reaches out to gesture at the box of Northern Spices underneath a Lunar Lantern on one of the shelves. Koltira slams the iron door closed decisively.

“Never.” He decrees, and Thassarian wisely resigns himself to forever lending his partner bank space.


	13. Physics

Deepholm is very purple, for a place under the ground made from rocks. At least...he thinks they're underground. Looking up at the huge, glowing hole in the sky, he turns to Thassarian.

“So...there is a dome above us, which Deathwing ripped through into the middle of the ocean, but no water is coming through it, and if we do not fix the pillar – which is a relatively small rock in this temple – Deepholm will explosively decompress upward into Azeroth.”

He stares up. Thass stares as well, wincing.

“I think – yes.” He decides, having just as much trouble wrapping his mind around the physics of the place.

“Ugh.” Koltira offers. “At this point am I the only one who wants to see that? Just a little?”

Thassarian glances at him again, possibly trying to work out if they will ever go anywhere and not have Kolitra offend the locals.

“I do not think it wise to say such in front of the Earthen Ring,” he reminds, glancing sideways at the handful of shocked shamans. Koltira has an attitude towards nature that makes most shamans want to cry, which is odd for an elf.

“Oh. I forgot they were there. So, rock people? We're doing something with them, yes? Just rock men though, because apparently there are no rock women. Or at least I haven't seen any. Although they look a lot like dwarves so perhaps the women just look and sound exactly the same as the men.” Koltira starts towards the temple entrance, completely ignoring the worried looks the shamans are giving each other. Thrall had looked a lot like that when he'd sent them down here.

“Dwarven women do not look like men-”

“Thasarian, some of them have beards.”


	14. On Argus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Argus. Also trigger warning for that noise the fel reaver makes.

“I will go ahead and clear a path,” Turalyon calls nobly as he runs off towards the demons. “Light be with us!”

“I hate him. I hate this place, it's infested with Paladins. I hate his wife because her sister had me tortured, I hate his kid because he's like Anduin with fifty percent better genetics, I hate the Exodar because it's full of purple things that make annoying noises, I hate Prophet Velen because he looks like an ageing squid, I hate Dranei because they're cheerful goat people from space, I hate the Broken because they're just ugly versions of Dranei, I hate-”

Thassarian stares out over the ruined landscape of Argus and decides not to mention that he's quite enjoying being in a new place. Koltira has been on his 'things I hate' rant for about twenty minutes anyway and will probably be at it for another ten at least. 

Somewhere down below, Fel Reaver 2.0 makes a horribly familiar sound and they both instinctively glance around to make sure the enormous demon robot isn't about to stand on them. Thassarian has far too many memories of innocently mining fel iron and then hearing that robotic roar and glancing up to see a huge, metal foot descending towards him.

“I hate that thing,” he cuts in because it hasn't been on the hate list yet. Koltira prematurely ends his rant to agree, standing on the edge of their little ledge and peering over to watch it pass with narrowed eyes. A few miles away across demon infested wasteland is a crashed spaceship, the Xenedar, which had managed to fly majestically for about ten seconds before being immediately shot down. Koltira had laughed so hard he'd almost been sick, which had amused Illidan but not so much the rest of them. Thassarian had seen Illidan smirking slightly and then watched Khadgar notice and immediately smack him, so at least they were getting on. He likes it when people make friends. Koltira doesn't.

“What are we even doing?” Koltira demands, since he never keeps track of what they're doing or why, he just agrees to everything in the hopes that Thass is paying attention.

“We're going to somewhere called the Shattered Fields.” He supplies helpfully, long used to his role in their relationship as both the calm one and the one who knows what they're actually supposed to be doing at any given moment.

“Shattered as in tired?” Koltira frowns, squinting out over the horrible landscape.

“Probably not,” Thass replies, turning to his mount. Koltira follows, glaring at his drake so hard it hangs its head in shame.

“Don't even give me that look, you're just lazy. There is literally no reason you won't fly us over this awful pointless world – if there was more gravity here we'd be the first to know, we're both wearing full plate. If the air was thicker or poison or something all these annoying living peons would have died, so I know it's not that either. Treats are off the menu until you start flying again, you overgrown gecko.”

Koltira wins a lot of battle pet battles, because the 'treats' he feeds his drake are the ones who lose. The remaining ones are very good at what they do though – mostly out of terror – so Thassarian supposes it all worked out quite well. Thass isn't sure if Koltira planned that or if he just wanted to see if his drake would eat a corgi, but either way it works.

Xxx

They eventually manage to get Xe'ra back, although Koltira complains loudly the entire time that he doesn't want it back because it makes an annoying sound and it's – in his opinion – a googly-eyed glowing space fascist. It eventually proves that right by forcefully trying to turn Illidan into some sort of chosen one, which he refuses, much to the annoyance of pretty much everyone except Koltira (who claps loudly after Illidan blows the Naaru to bits) and Thass (who also kind of agrees with Illidan but isn't as into making a scene as Koltira is).

All in all, Thassarian thinks, things are going pretty well so far on Argus.


	15. Welcome to Winter Veil - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd do something a bit longer for xmas. Enjoy!

It's about half way through December, not that anyone would be able to tell aboard Acherus. 

The quiet, icy halls are disturbed only by the familiar sounds of the Death Knights, everyday occurrences in the Ebon Hold not meant for the eyes of the living. Lurid, Thassarian's skeletal minion, is wandering about occasionally stealing anything shiny he sees and hiding it in one of the abominations. Nobody quite knows why he does it and nobody has been able to stop him, not that anyone has tried very hard because he seems to be enjoying himself. Darion doesn't mind it because at least he always knows where his savings have gone – into 'jingles' the abomination's gut.

Darion himself is laying low because – as can faintly be heard echoing throughout the halls – their resident highly strung undead Blood Elf is screeching about something. His voice can reach a pitch that makes Darion want to die all over again - he wonders what Thassarian did but doesn't actually want to go and find out.

Somewhere up on the roof of the floating hold Koltira's drake is chewing thoughtfully on a battle pet while Thassarian's latest mount – some sort of horrible worm thing – is flopping about uselessly and hissing because it's entirely possible it isn't supposed to be breathing air.

“I cannot believe this.” Koltira says, down in Thassarian's chamber (although Koltira is in the process of taking it over because his own room is full of useless things he's collected). “Isn't she...alive? Why the hell would you invite her here, are you insane?”

“I panicked,” Thassarian admits sheepishly, holding the only picture he has of his sister Leryssa.

“We're going to have to tidy this place up and pretend to do this holiday they're having, do you even know what that involves?” Koltira demands, hands on his hips. He isn't wearing his plate inside the hold because his allies aren't intimidated by his strength. It's his personality that frightens them and he doesn't need armour for that.

“I remember I had to cut down a tree.” Thassarian provides thoughtfully. “Beyond that I, uh, think we'll have to ask Darion.”

“Oh, superb. He's going to love that. Actually, he's going to hate it and probably spend the whole holiday hiding under a blanket. I'm starting to like this idea.” He brightens up a little, stalking over and leaning on Thassarian to have a look at the picture so he knows what his lover's sister actually looks like.

“She is a good woman,” Thass offers.

“Great, yes. Good. She's very...alive.” Koltira makes a face, wrinkling his nose. “I'm never going to get used to stubby little human ears.”

Thass touches his ear and makes an odd face before shaking himself and putting the picture away.

“My ears are normal. We should go and ask Darion how to do this.” He suggests.

“Yesss.” Koltira grins. “This is going to make him so happy.”

~x~

“Oh gods no, please.” Darion groans, face in his hands. “You're supposed to be the sane one.”

“I am?” Thass asks in surprise, wondering if people just think that because they usually compare him to Koltira, who is pretty much batshit crazy by anyone's standards. Darion gives him a flat look, ignoring Koltira's wide grin and slumping tiredly in his desk chair.

“Were you two sent here to punish me?” He asks in a mutter before opening a drawer, digging around in it and taking out a yellowing bit of paper and a pen. “Listen, I've been dead too long for this crap, I don't remember anything other than that cutting down a tree is somehow relevant.” He hands the paper and pen to Thassarian. “Go and ask someone alive. Don't kidnap anyone, we don't need the bad press at the moment. I suggest Archmage Khadgar in Dalaran, he likes helping people. Write down what he tells you to do and then go do it and don't tell me about any of it.”

“Wow, thanks. You were a huge help as usual.” Koltira says in such a sincere voice that Darion isn't sure if it's even sarcasm. 

“Thank you,” Thass adds with an awkward smile, ushering Koltira out. Darion watches them go and, as the door closes with the gravelly echo of a tomb, pulls the blanket back over his head.

~x~

“Hello! Happy Winter Veil!” Khadgar greets them cheerfully, wearing some sort of holiday themed hat with a bell on and generally being a dork, as usual. Behind him is Illidan Stormrage, looming over the mage like a huge purple wall and staring down at the hat silently as though he doesn't quite understand why it's happening but is too proud to ask about it.

They're at an inn in the middle of Dalaran, Koltira's drake shuffling about outside the door and snapping its teeth at random people. Thassarian flew over on the latest of his long line of mounts, a Quillen. It's next to the drake chasing its tail in circles and stopping every now and then to sway dizzily, vomit and fall over.

“Greetings, Archmage. And Illidan.” Thass says awkwardly, because he's the one who does the opening and closing statements of most of Koltira's conversations like a carer for someone with no concept of manners.

“We need to pretend we understand Winter Veil. His sister is coming to Acherus and she's alive and for the record, I don't approve of that.” Koltira informs the Archmage, who isn't quite sure if the death knight means he doesn't approve of her visiting Acherus or her being alive. Thass knows he means both.

“Well, I mean it isn't all that hard. It's all about giving, and spending time with-” Khadgar begins, barely put off by Koltira's immediate interruption because he's used to hanging about with Illidan, Lord of Politeness.

“I said pretend. Can you just write us a list of what we need to do to make it look like we know what's going on without actually telling us? We can pay.” Koltira offers, holding out a handful of familiar coins. He tosses one up in the air and it makes a rainbow.

“Oh! Wherever did you get those?” Khadgar asks, looking pleased and taking the crumpled bit of paper Thass offers, scribbling down a few lines of text. Illidan watches silently from behind him and raises an eyebrow at how incredibly bad Khadgar's handwriting is.

“Found them.” Koltira shrugs, his plate armour clanking loudly. Thass is pretty sure he means “found them in an abomination”, but wisely doesn't mention it.

“Hmm, okay. That should do it.” The mage says after a couple of minutes, taking his coins happily and handing the paper back to Thass, who squints at it through glowing blue eyes and tries to figure out if it's even the right way up.

“Right, let's get this over so I can go back to not doing this.” Koltira declares, turning and marching out of the inn towards where his drake is eyeing up a passing Night Elf's pet pug.

“Thank you for the assistance.” Thassarian says, glancing once more at the archmage's hat before following Koltira out.

On the flight back across to Acherus, which is currently hovering ominously between Dalaran and the Broken Shore, Thassarian wonders why Illidan and Khadgar are suddenly a pair. Perhaps they're sleeping together, although how that works with Illidan being about a third again as tall as Khadgar is a mystery he never wants to unravel. He supposes it doesn't mater – Koltira is slightly smaller than him after all (although within what he would consider normal parameters), but makes up for what he lacks in height by being incredibly demanding and violent for someone with the build of a human teenager.

“What does the list say?” Koltira shouts across to him as they hover near Acherus, the Quillen flapping its tiny wings frantically just to even stay in the air under the weight of a death knight in full plate covered with unnecessary spikes.

Thass looks down at the bit of paper and frowns, turns it over and frowns again for a long moment before slowly starting to read.

“Food: turkey. One person, six turkeys.” He says uncertainly. What it actually says is that one turkey should feed about six people, but Khadgar has mage handwriting so it could well have said anything, really.

“Is she bringing anyone else?” Koltira asks, hoping not because one living person is more than enough.

“Her new husband.” Thass tells his parter, who sighs dramatically. “I don't know anything about him, though. Except he's probably alive, I mean.”

“Disgusting.” Koltira makes a face. “Fine, so twelve turkeys. I vote you send Lurid to catch them, he likes running around, it's what he would have been doing anyway.” He suggests, at no point wondering if twelve entire turkeys is too much for two people. Thass nods, letting his Quillen land on the roof because most mounts can't even get in the entrance underneath. Koltira lands next to him and they both watch the Quillen fall over sideways the moment Thass gets off it.

“Is that dead?” Koltira asks, nudging it with his boot. 

“I don't understand why this keeps happening.” Thass frowns, leaving it there to follow Koltira inside.

~x~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will the Death Knights learn the true meaning of Winter Veil?  
> I'll answer that one right now. No. No, they won't. 
> 
> Part 2 coming soon!


	16. Welcome to Winter Veil - Part 2

Orbaz gets the job of cooking the turkeys, because nobody likes him. While he's grudgingly attempting to use the soul forge to roast them Koltira and Thassarian get to the next item on Khadgar's list – decorating.

“A tree. I knew there was a tree.” Thass points at the scribble happily while Koltira hands him an axe.

“Does it matter what type of tree?” The blood elf asks, frowning. “Actually, just get a fruit tree so we don't have to decorate it as much.” He decides. “I'll do something with...this.” He gestures to the main hall, which is dark and cold and covered in dust. “Although I don't see why it needs changing, it looks fine to me.”

Thass stares around thoughtfully, silently agreeing that it looks fine.

“Perhaps some colours?” He suggests. “I think the decorations they were putting up on Dalaran were red, green and gold. I'm sure we have something in those colours.” He suggests. “I will find us a tree.” He hefts the axe to rest on one large shoulder. “The best tree.”

“You do that.” Koltira says with narrowed eyes, watching him happily head off to destroy some nature. Koltira has vague memories of Thass telling him he'd been a farm boy before becoming the undead killing machine he now is - getting to chop down a tree is probably nostalgic for him or something. Either way, Koltira doesn't actually care. He has decorating to do.

~x~

By the time Leryssa arrives everything is as ready as it's going to get. She arrives on a gryphon being flown by a man in suspiciously shiny armour that causes Koltira to elbow Thassarian savagely in the side as they stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to approach.

“That's a paladin.” The elf hisses. “You did not tell me her new husband was a paladin! In our hold! You know how I feel about paladins!” He complains in the loudest whisper possible. “Every time we see them they try and make us contribute in a positive way to society and that goes against everything I stand for!” 

Leryssa's new husband watches them for a while as they argue, Thassarian trying to placate a smaller, much angrier Death Knight. Eventually he holds out one shiny hand, smiling brightly.

“You must be Thassarian, it's good to meet you. I'm Tanis, Leryssa's husband - and your new brother in law, I suppose!” He smiles again and Koltira makes a disgusted face.

Thassarian thinks that having a brother in law would only apply if he was actually alive, but decides not to mention that because Leryssa is watching him with a raised eyebrow.

“Hello.” He says instead, because he isn't very good at talking to people. He shakes hands awkwardly with the paladin, whose golden gauntlet immediately starts to frost over.

“You must be Koltira Deathweaver, I've heard a lot about you.” Leryssa smiles, moving to take her husband's arm and pat his now slightly numb hand reassuringly when Thass lets it go with a crackle of frost.

“What did you tell her?” Koltira demands, turning to aim a glare at Thass, who raises his hands in placation.

“Only the truth,” he offers.

“Don't tell people that!” The elf snarls, then turns back to the paladin, gives him a once-over and then decides to ignore him, instead focussing on Leryssa. “We don't usually do anything for this holiday because it's pointless but Archmage Khadgar gave us some tips, so all of this is his fault.” He gestures behind him to the main hall where the table entirely filled with cooked turkeys and nothing else is taking up most of the middle of the room. Around the walls are decorations that Leryssa decides not to look too closely at, because some of them are glistening and one of the garlands seems to still be attached to an abomination, who's giggling happily in one corner and bouncing a little, which is where the festive jingling music seems to be coming from.

“Khadgar suggested this?” She asks, trying not to cringe at the blood, fel and pus dripping down the walls in red, green and yellow. At least the colours are festive, she likes that they tried.

“Yes. All of it.” Koltira agrees.

“I did the tree.” Thassarian says. Leryssa and Tanis look over at where there's an apple tree propped up against one wall. There aren't any leaves on it because it's the middle of winter but there's still a few wrinkled, dead apples hanging from the bare branches, which someone has draped with more intestines and what looks like eyes and shiny beetle wings.

“You used to love cutting down trees.” Leryssa smiles, nostalgic. Behind her Koltira's drake swoops down from the roof and carries their gryphon off in its claws, leaving only a flurry of feathers and a startled squawk.

“It's good to have a hobby,” Tanis adds, his bright smile now looking slightly forced as he carefully avoids looking at or touching anything.

“Oh, you even have a fairy for the top, how nice.” Leryssa smiles, pulling Tanis towards the turkey table. The 'fairy' is actually one of Koltira's little val'kyr battle pets that he's covered in glitter and tied to one of the branches, but from far enough away it almost passes.

~x~

Dinner is horrible. The mortals seem to be enjoying themselves well enough as long as they don't look at any of the decorations, and Lurid has to keep bringing water for them because eating turkey and nothing else for over an hour is quite dry. The turkeys have a slight blue glow to them and Koltira wonders if Orbaz actually managed to runeforge them by accident because he's an idiot. It probably won't do the humans any harm, he decides.

The paladin has spent a lot of dinner staring at him, which he thinks might be because of the black lipstick, but who really knows with paladins. Ignoring a paladin is a lot easier with ale, so he's been drinking with Thass because it actually does get them drunk if they drink enough. It's about six times the amount that would immediately kill any of the mortal races but they're managing. 

“This is...lovely. I'm glad you're getting on well here. You seem to be happy,” Leryssa smiles at her brother, who gives her a slightly drunken grin that Koltira likes because Thass actually has a really dopey smile for a huge undead killing machine.

“It's usually a lot less colourful.” Thass says happily. Darion walks in then with a blanket around his shoulders over his armour, glaring at everything.

“Hail, mighty overlord of the Ebon Blade.” Koltira cackles. “Nice blanket.” 

Darion just glares harder at him, gives the humans a once over and pauses when he sees the man in full shining, golden plate trying not to be noticed. 

“Is that a paladin.” He says flatly, because he does his best not to have most emotions if he can help it.

“You must be the commander here, it's a pleasure-” Tanis begins, only to be cut off when Darion turns away, shuffling off.

“Don't look at me.” He says, making his way back out of the hall again to hide in his chamber, pulling the blanket back up and wearing it like a hood. 

“Is he okay?” Leryssa asks, frowning worriedly.

“Other than being dead?” Koltira raises both white eyebrows. “He's always like that. He used to be a paladin.” He says, as though that explains everything. In his mind, it does.

“Oh. Uh, what were you, before...?” Tanis asks, getting another elbow in the side from Leryssa in case he upsets Koltira.

“Pretty much the same only alive.” Koltira says, helping himself to another ale. “I was killed in glorious battle by...I dunno, some peon.” He glances sideways at Thass, who looks sheepish. “Wanna see the scar?” He asks Tanis gleefully, who looks mildly interested before Leryssa clears her throat pointedly.

“Uh, maybe later. Did you ever get revenge on the man who killed you?” Tanis asks, wondering why Thassarian is suddenly drinking a lot more than he was a minute ago and looking embarrassed.

“It's an ongoing process.” Koltira grins.

~x~

By the time Leryssa and Tanis leave Koltira and Thass are well and truly drunk, sitting on top of Acherus and watching Koltira's rabid drake fly them back towards Dalaran with feathers and blood from their ex-gryphon still around its mouth.

The Fel Hammer glides past slowly with about forty drunk demon hunters dancing on the roof with no shirts on, which is apparently how Illidari like to celebrate Winter Veil. A fair few of them are jumping about with their wings out, which makes the ship look like it's covered by a swarm of tipsy bats.

Over near the front of the ship Kayn Sunfury is watching Jace invent what appears to be either disco lights or a projection of what the inside of a seizure might look like.

“Go away or you all get the plague for Winter Veil!” Koltira shouts at them, throwing empty ale bottles at the Fel Hammer as it passes and mostly missing because he's drunk.

“I'm glad they're having fun.” Thass remarks.

“I'm not.” Koltira growls predictably, winging one last bottle off the edge of Acherus as hard as he can and managing to smash it against the glowing lights of the Fel Hammer's engine. A panel the size of a horse flickers and goes out, a large crack spreading through it, and to Koltira's delight the ship shudders and begins to list sharply to one side, all the drunken demon hunters sliding off the roof.

“Uh,” Thass stares, watching them all panic, still drunk and shirtless.

Koltira stares as well for a few moments with wide eyes, then begins to laugh so hard he has to briefly stop for a coughing fit even though he doesn't actually need to breathe.

“Happy holidays!” He shouts over the edge, waving cheerfully to the ones still gliding down towards the waiting ocean, every single one of them threatening loudly to kill him.

This is the happiest Thass has ever seen Koltira, who pulls him into a half-cackling kiss as angry demon hunters rain down around them like pissed off confetti. The sun sets blood red behind them, framing the silhouette of the Fel Hammer sliding sideways towards the ocean as the crew race frantically to fix her before she hits the sea. 

Thass wraps a big arm around Koltira's waist and they lean against each other to watch the chaos, both grinning.

“This is my best Winter Veil ever.” Koltira says, which makes it all worth it, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was how Jace invented techno and the Fel Hammer became a boat.  
> Happy holidays!


End file.
